


Growing

by boxofhatebrains



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Not Gundam Wing: Frozen Teardrop Compliant, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofhatebrains/pseuds/boxofhatebrains
Summary: "I just want to show you off," I tell Trowa as we walk down the hallway towards the others' laughter and voices, "I want them to be assured that I'm happy...and not alone anymore."He gives me a look that could translate to 'couldn't you just tell them over the phone?'"They're now your family, too," I say slowly because we have only recently begun to talk about marriage in the future, "So, think about it like they're family that you just haven't met yet."
Relationships: Trowa Barton/Quatre Raberba Winner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Growing

His eyebrows were tight and close, telling me 'I don't want to do this.' The way his lips were tucked downward, so slightly, screamed out, 'I **_really_** don't want to do this.'  
  
But his hand, sweaty and limp in mine, weakly explained, 'But I'll do this because I love you.'  
  
We were getting close, so I tell him, "We're almost there...Thank you, I mean it."  
  
He nods, but it's stiff and barely there.  
  
"Don't worry," I tell him softly and move closer, as much as my seatbelt will allow, "They'll like you. Plus, it will just be a few people. And you already know Rashid..."  
  
It has no effect on him. He is still still and quiet, a statue in my arms. It hurts a little, but I understand his trepidation. I would feel very intimidated meeting my family, too. Especially growing up the way that Trowa did, alone...  
  
I squeeze his hand harder and he does look at me this time and whispers, "Don't worry like that."  
  
He always seems to know when I'm sad for him, when I think about his past, when I want to erase it. I believe that everything happens for a reason, but when I think about everything he told me happening to him, to _my_ Trowa...everything hurts, everything angers me. I don't want him to feel those emotions anymore. I want him to be happy and safe...  
  
The limo rolls quietly through the estate's gate. We're at my sister Layla's home, although she's more familiar with Iria than with me. I don't remember her too much, so I feel slightly nervous, too. But Rashid _will_ be there and so will Iria. I smile to myself when I think of them, when I think of sharing my happiness with them. I think Rashid already knows about Trowa and I, but tonight I will confirm it. They already know that I'm bringing some one that I care about and as I look at Trowa, I feel like I'm going to burst with joy.  
  
Here we are, alive and in peace. There was a time in my life that I never thought I would have someone that loves me so deeply, I never thought I deserved that love. There was a lonely, desolate time that love didn't matter to me, that I couldn't care about any thing or any one. I felt like I would only be hurt, that the people I had trusted had betrayed me. They had lied to me and had humored me.  
  
I was so sad and lonely and bitter. And somehow, I found what I had been looking for, what I craved. I found the love that made me complete, made me someone. He makes me someone, someone better.  
  
He catches my stare and quirks an eyebrow, "Yes?"  
  
"I love you," I breathe out and kiss him. He kisses back, but it's distracted.   
  
I swallow down the anxiety as the car stops by the front steps. The chauffeur opens the door for me and the cold air sinks into my clothes. I wait for Trowa to get out and then offer him a hand and a smile.  
  
"I don't think we should now," he mumbles quietly.  
  
It's his tone that confuses me, almost ashamed; a shard of rejection sinks into my chest. I'm about to disagree, but the door opens suddenly.  
  
"Quatre!" Iria exclaims when she peers out the door, "You're..."  
  
She pauses a moment as she sees Trowa, too. She falters and both Trowa and I see it, but I quickly say, "Iria, I want you to meet Trowa. Trowa, this is the sister that I told you about, that helped me during the war. Iria, remember that I told you that I met a musician during the war?"  
  
She hastily smiles and although it's surprised, it's genuine as she lets us into the entrance way.  
  
"Trowa," she says politely, placing a gentle hand on his arm, "It's so good to meet you. Quatre told me that he had met a musician that had played with him. He said that he never wanted to play with anyone else after you."  
  
I don't remember telling her _that_ and I can feel myself flush. Trowa looks awkward, too, and we both just stand there, all looking at each other. I'm not sure what to say, so I blurt out, "Well, I don't recall saying that, but I can believe it, he's good. _Very_ good."  
  
I flush again and wonder if she thinks I meant an innuendo. I didn't think of it like that, but it sounds odd. Surely she doesn't think that I mean it like that, right? It's a perfectly innocent comment.  
  
"Well, here, lend me your coats," Iria tells us and we do, "Go right in. Everyone is already here. Salma is here, isn't that wonderful, Quatre? She said that she wouldn't miss a dinner with you. She's really missed you."  
  
I nod and tell her that I've missed Salma, too. I have, but I haven't, as well. She was the closest in age to me, being three years older than I. We would play together, but we've fallen out over the years. Father had sent her to a boarding school when I was ten or eleven and her letters throughout the years became fewer and shorter. She was progressively turning into an adult and soon her studies and boyfriend took up most of her time. And at the same time, I was having a difficult time stumbling through puberty and then the war...I feel like a different person now, so I miss the person _she_ was, but not the person _I_ was.  
  
When Iria leaves, I hold out my hand, offering it to Trowa.  
  
"I still don't think it's a good idea," he says quietly.  
  
I give him an imploring smile as I reach out for his hand, "I didn't think going to war was a good idea, but I still went...and I'm glad to know that I was wrong."  
  
He gives me his hand, but it's a meek grip. I give a small, encouraging squeeze.  
  
"I just want to show you off," I tell him as we walk down the hallway towards the others' laughter and voices, "I want them to be assured that I'm happy...and not alone anymore."  
  
He gives me a look that could translate to 'couldn't you just tell them over the phone?'  
  
"They're now your family, too," I say slowly because we have only recently begun to talk about marriage in the future, "So, think about it like they're family that you just haven't met yet."  
  
"Are you going to tell them that?" he asks, almost shyly.  
  
"What? That we're going to...that I want to marry you?" I ask and stop to look at him.  
  
He looks me in the eye and somehow I know it means 'yes'.   
  
"Absolutely," I promise and kiss his cheek, "I want them to know how deeply I love you and how serious I am about you."  
  
I kiss his other cheek and lead him down the hall. I don't know honestly how they'll react, but I don't care. I'm so content with my lover, my quiet Trowa, my _passionate_ Trowa.   
  
The door is open when we reach it and Rashid is the first to notice us, to notice our clasped hands.  
  
"Hello everyone," I announce and my sisters Salma, Layla, and Paoli, and also to Rashid.  
  
"Quatre!" Salma exclaims and asks, "Is this the 'special someone'?"  
  
I hadn't expected this to happen so soon, but it seemed like the room had stilled, everyone waiting for my response.  
  
"Yes," I answer and smile to Trowa, who tries to look as pleasant as he can, "This is Trowa Barton. We have been together since the end of the war."  
  
"Do you mind," Layla gently questions, "if I ask which war?"  
  
"Well," Salma interrupts, "There was only the one war. What happened on X18999 was not a war. It was a 'conflict'."  
  
'Oh good, politics,' I wryly think to myself as they discuss it, but I notice Trowa relax when the conversation is directed elsewhere.  
  
"Mr. Barton?" Layla asks when Iria joins us and we sit down for dinner.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Are you related to the Barton family that led the Barton Foundation?"  
  
I didn't think that it would be pointed out. In fact, I had forgotten about his odd ties with the family. All of my sisters look, interested, towards him. I don't see any malice, just curiosity, in their expressions.  
  
I'm about to answer for him, but he puts his hand over mine and answers, "My relationship to that family is distant and strained."  
  
They all nod, completely understanding.  
  
For a few minutes, we eat our soup in silence. I keep looking at Rashid, but he doesn't glance back. I get an odd feeling, just watching him. I don't like it. I don't know what's wrong. He might be uncomfortable with my relationship with Trowa. Maybe he doesn't care for Trowa. Maybe it's because he doesn't believe Trowa is good enough for me? I frown as I eat, squeezing Trowa's arm under the table in reassurance, but I'm not sure if it's for him or me.   
  
"Mr. Barton," Layla speaks again, "Do you mind me asking what your work is?"  
  
He licks his lips and slowly says, "I'm a performer."  
  
"An actor?" Salma asks, excitement in her eyes.  
  
"Well, a little, I suppose," Trowa replies, "I work at a traveling circus now, with my sister. I take care of the animals and...I'm part of her performance."  
  
"...Oh," Iria says slowly and smiles. They all smile, but it's a bit forced.  
  
"Trowa is so talented, though," I add, suddenly, "He's a musician and an acrobat, too."  
  
"Acrobat?" Salma asks, but I can tell that it's teasing and a bit hinting...I can feel my cheeks redden.  
  
"Yes," Iria comes to my rescue, "I've heard that you play the flute, Trowa- I mean, Mr. Barton."  
  
Trowa looks a bit relieved and tells her, "You can call me Trowa."  
  
"Who taught you how to play?" Iria continues.  
  
"A mercenary that was in our unit," Trowa answers civilly, "He could play the flute and the accordion...I chose the flute."  
  
My sisters laugh at that and so do I and it feels good. But Rashid is still silent and my stomach twists...  
  
"Good choice," Paoli commends him and Trowa slides in a smirk.  
  
"Do your parents also work in the circus?" Iria asks.  
  
"No," Trowa clears his throat and continues, "They died when I was very young."  
  
"Oh," Iria softly replies and quietly adds, "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's fine. I don't even remember them."  
  
The first course is served, but the table-talk has become more somber.   
  
It's actually Trowa that speaks next, just to break the silence.  
  
"I was raised by mercenaries on Earth. It was fine," he admits, slowly, for my benefit I think. He's trying hard, _very hard_ , to gain their approval for me. I squeeze his arm again and smile to him. I don't need their approval.  
  
"So, you had to endure army cooking all your life?" Salma forces a joke, but it's chuckled over.  
  
"It wasn't all that bad," Trowa shrugs, "Although I don't think I can ever eat navy beans again. We got a double shipment by mistake once and it couldn't go to waste, so..."  
  
Another light laughter spreads through the table.  
  
"Fortunately, I don't think the cook prepared any tonight," Paoli tells him with a smile.  
  
Still, there's a tenseness and my heart is constantly bobbing out of rhythm. I don't think I can eat my whole dinner. I can barely swallow anything down. It's not like I need their approval, but I really want to have something to offer Trowa. I want him to have a family. I want him to have people that care about him and our relationship.   
  
"So what are your plans for the future?" Paoli politely asks, in general to both of us.  
  
It's a perfect opportunity.  
  
"Well," I smile wider and glance at Trowa, who is concentrated very hard on his salad, "In a few months, Trowa wants to depart from the circus to...come and live with me."  
  
There's a paused moment of shock between every one at the table, as they fumble for something to say.  
  
"Wow," Salma is the first to say something, "That's...great."  
  
"Yeah," I say with just as much conviction as she did.  
  
"But," I quickly interject, "We're starting to plan for...marriage."  
  
Rashid clears his throat abruptly and mumbles, "Please excuse me."  
  
Then he stands and exits, taking along with him my heart. Out of everyone, out of all my friends and family, _out of every one I know and care about_ , he really was the one. He was the only one I wanted to please and have his support. He was the only one I needed to be happy for me.  
  
I'm crestfallen. I'm speechless. I can't believe he...isn't happy for me. I thought he'd be so happy for me. I had made my own path. I had chosen my own life. I had found my own love. I had made my life something to be proud of and he just...  
  
I feel the tears in my eyes before I really realize that they're there. I feel Trowa's concerned hand on my thigh.   
  
"Congratulations," Iria exclaims with candid enthusiasm.  
  
"Yes, indeed," Paoli agrees, a smile embedded in her tone.  
  
However, I keep watching the door where Rashid rushed through, in dismay. I can't believe he just... _left_.  
  
"Thank you," I hear Trowa evenly say, for both of us.   
  
After a few moments, I turn back to the table and, shamefully, wipe my eyes with my napkin. That's fine. I don't need his consent. I'm happy. I'm happy with Trowa. I'm _ecstatic_.  
  
"It just must be a shock," Iria says quietly after a brief hesitation, "for Rashid. I'm sure he'll be back soon."  
  
"I'm..." I pause before I know what I want to do, "I'm going to go talk to him."  
  
I glance at Trowa, making sure that it's all right with him, but his expression is closed and unreadable. I take a breath and slip away from the dinner table. I have no clue where to search, but as a stranger in a house, I can only imagine he'd be at a few public places so he wouldn't intrude. I start in all the public places and eventually find him sitting on the front steps.  
  
I hesitantly approach him, sitting gingerly next to him.  
  
He's silent and only looks ahead. It's hard, so difficult to watch him like this and express myself. It's like he's closed me off. If as if I'm not Quatre to him anymore. As if I'm not _his_ Quatre anymore...  
  
And realization floods me warmly and dizzies me. Is that what this is about? Is he just...  
  
"Forgive me for abruptly leaving," he apologizes, hushed and low, so only I could hear.  
  
"It's fine, I just..." I don't know how to say this, I never knew how to talk to my father and I feel the same way I'd feel when explaining something to him. Like I'm drowning in my words, but can't release them, until they just burst out.  
  
"No," he sighs, "No, it's not fine. I apologize. I should be in there with you both..."  
  
"I want to share my happiness with you," I tell him, "You've been such a large part of my life. I've needed your support for so long, but...if you can't give it now, I-"  
  
He cuts me off with a deeper sigh, exuding from his deepest regions, long and slow. It's like he's been holding it for a long, long time.  
  
"I don't mind Trowa. I've always known in some way what type of relationship that you had with him, it's that...I didn't expect you..."  
  
"To marry him?" I try to help him, "For it _not_ to be a phase?"  
  
"To grow up so quickly," he looks at me, serious and yet, gently.  
  
I flush and feel a strangely bashful.  
  
"I know that it's a bit strange," he continues, "War's made you a man, but..when I saw you come in with him, all I could think was, 'He's really growing up. He's not the little master under my wing. He's now a young man.' I guess it just shocked me. It shouldn't-"  
  
"Yes, it should," I smile and wrap my arms around my legs, "I had been growing up in a different way during the war; I had been becoming a leader. Now, I'm becoming a man that will have a house and a husband and maybe children one day...It's different. I'm making my own 'nest' and it's different from fighting. It's more difficult in many ways. I need to be there for Trowa and also for my work. I have to balance it."  
  
He nods slowly.  
  
"I'm not...I mean, Rashid, I want you to be there. In the future, at the wedding, tomorrow - as long as you'll want to stay," I confess and feel such weight in my words, soaking into my heart, blurring my vision, "You're not just my friend, you're so much more. I want you to stand for me at the wedding. I want you to be the first person to hear about good news...and also bad. I still want you to be part of my life. _We_ want you to be a part of _our_ lives, Rashid.  
  
"I love you. I have learned to love so many other things because of you. I've learned to love myself, and in a way, Trowa, too. You've taught me so many things that my fath-"  
  
"Thank you," he quickly says, cutting off my next words, saving them from being said, but still knowing they were there. They _are_ there, on my tongue, in my soul, always. Rashid has been family ever since I've known him, unafraid to praise me or discipline me.   
  
We sit in a warm stillness, listening to the wind in the trees and the soft murmur of cicadas.   
  
"It's not about Trowa," he repeats, "I don't know him well, it's difficult to know him, but...it's felt like you've known him before you even met. As long as he takes care of you, then I'm glad that you've found each other."  
  
"Thank you," I tell him, sincerely and lean over to rest my head on his muscular arm. When I'm near him, I feel like I can do anything. It's like when I'm with Trowa, but not the same. It's like being around Trowa makes me better, but being around Rashid makes me _strive_ to be better.  
  
"Let's go back in," he says and I nod against his shirt.  
  
When we stand, he looks at me, looks _into me,_ and smiles. He places a heavy hand on my head and I grin back.  
  
"You're turning into a fine young man, Quatre Winner."  
  
I'm about to respond, but the door slowly opens and Trowa's standing there, looking unsure whether he should close the door or come out.  
  
I smile, holding out my hand, and without hesitation, he comes to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Geez, I can't believe Boogeyman the movie inspired me...


End file.
